


Balcony Sadness

by SugarBunny98



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Depressed Harry, Fluff and Humor, Harry Styles Paints Their Nails, I'm Bad At Tagging, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sweet Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-07-18 16:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16121936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarBunny98/pseuds/SugarBunny98
Summary: Harry needs his will to live back so he spends hours in his balcony looking for it,until he meets his new neighbor.or the depressed!Harry au I wrote to avoid my own problems.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning:  
> Mentions of self-harm, suicide, depression.

One.

 

 

 

I.

7pm.

Harry puts his mug and the new candle on the floor before throwing his books on the futon.

He pushes the papers on the floor around, Some of them were new barely wrinkled. And others were nearly melded into the floor.

He hates them all the same, the faces and the flowers and the animals. He hates them all and they all stare back at him. Taunt him with their ugliness, their misery. _His_ ugliness and _His_ misery.

He sits down on his futon, pulls his legs to his chest and lays his sketchbook on them. He looks straight ahead at the curtain he hung on the left side of his balcony.

He didn’t have any neighbors when he put it up, but the idea of how close the balconies are, of someone being there and seeing into his space made him uncomfortable. The curtain comes in handy now that someone moved in about two weeks ago.

His balcony is the only place that was fully and completely him.

It doesn’t have his mother’s notes and letters all over, his mother’s lovely notes and letters, the small “I love you”s and “you’ll always have me”s and the “you’re never alone”s

It doesn’t have the quilt his grandmother made him when she found out.

It doesn’t have sympathetic looks from his relatives and it doesn’t have worried supposedly discreet looks at his wrists from his friends.

It holds no memory of bruises or blood or bad dreams.

It doesn’t have his family’s tear stains.

only his own.

And he wants it to stay like that.

 

  

II.

11pm

His tea has gone cold. He drinks it anyways. Three new sketches join the old ones on the balcony floor. His fingers and feet are cold, his ankle socks not helping.

He puts his sketchbook aside. Reaches for the candle, ‘HAPPINESS - BERGAMOT & MANDARIN’, the label made him scoff when he saw it at the store, irony made him buy it.

He lights it, it doesn’t smell the way he imagines happiness would, but what does he know?

 

 

III.   \Layla\

2:30am

He puts away his notebook. schoolwork be damned. The candle isn’t even half burnt. He hates this candle.

He leans on the rails, looking down, it’s not too far, it almost feels like if he stretches far enough he can touch the pavement. He reaches for it, the ground, his sleeve hitching and revealing his bare wrists, the scars are almost nonexistent now. 

Others can’t even see the scars without looking closely when the light hits his arm just right. But he sees them, he sees them and feels them.

scars he left himself. How can he ever not see them? how can he ever not see the only ugly part of himself that made someone other than him cry? The parts that made his sister stop sleeping, the parts that made his mum blame herself, the parts that made Niall think he’s a terrible friend?

How can ever.

He stands straight, pulls up his sleeve, he traces the clearest of them all, the only vertical one.

He’s distracted enough for the first strum on a guitar to make him jump.

The strumming continues. He’s gotten used to it, almost every night his new neighbor would come out at random times of the night and play the guitar, he’s most certain it’s a man. He only heard a voice singing softly once and in his surprise, he knocked over his tea and the singing stopped and he'd heard the window shut from behind his curtain.

He's playing a familiar melody, Harry knows this song…

He softly leans closer, making sure not to make a sound. He _knows_ this song, but he can’t seem to figure it out.

 

The further into the song the more irritated Harry gets. He wants to know what song it is.

So after one more minute of trying to listen quietly, Harry takes one more step closer to the curtain and yanks it back. It’s more forceful and dramatic than he intended but oh well.

 

He finds in the balcony across from him a man. A petite man hunched over a guitar. His eyes were wide, they were a shade of blue, or green maybe, the only light on that side is the cigarette between the man’s lips.

The man’s lips that’s corners are slowly upturning. He’s clearly checking Harry out, from his wild bun to his dirty socks and ugly drawings on the floor. Harry hates how close these balconies are.

“came to yell at me again?” guitar-man mumbles around his death-stick.

Harry might have yelled at the music source when he heard it the first time…something along the lines of “ARE YOU KIDDING ME? IT’S THREE IN THE MORNING!” to his surprise that day, the music stopped and the window slammed.

 

Harry shrugs, looking away from the man, he clears his throat “I- I’m sorry about…that...yelling and all..” he winces at how awkward he sounds, he wraps his arms around himself. “I was just surprised is all. Never heard any music around before.”

 The man hums, his fingers hovering over the strings of his guitar. “so, dear neighbor,-”

“Harry.”

“-Harry, nice name, I’m Louis,” the man smiles “may I continue playing or should I go inside?” he motions to the open window with a tilt of his head.

“uh, no you can stay? I mean, it’s your balcony so…you  _are_ your own person in your own balcony, you can do whatever you want” he sighs “I was just wondering what song you were just playing, it sounds so familiar but I can’t put my finger on it.”

The man, Louis, starts playing again, eyes still on Harry.

“Layla. By Eric Clapton” he says.

Harry’s eyes widen and he slams his hand hard against the railing, Louis winces, Harry doesn’t seem to notice, “of course Clapton! How did I forget?”

Louis is still smiling around his cigarette. “nice meeting ya, Harry, feel free to tell me to stop whenever” he looks back down at his guitar.

Harry hums. He pulled his curtains closed and gathers his things before climbing back inside. _Louis_.

 

 

 ***

 

 

Two.

 

 

I.

12am

Louis climbs out into the balcony, he leans back inside and grabs his tea and notebooks

He sits them on the table Zayn made him out of wooden pallets before leaning back in and grabbing his guitar

After some shuffling he finally settles, he opens his notebook to one of the songs he’s been trying to finish

Just as he was about to start playing, he hears it

A hitch of breath. A sniffle. A sob…he looks to his right only to be met with the damned curtain. he knows it’s Harry, though

He knows quite a lot about Harry now, but not everything yet. They’ve been talking more often these few weeks

He knows Harry’s last name is Styles and his favorite color is pink

He knows he used to be a baker but now works at the library

He knows he likes to try different kinds of tea and buys candles by name

He knows he can play a bit of the guitar but prefers the piano

He knows he’s a Science student

He knows he likes drawing and painting and art and that he hates all his _after_  work or so Harry calls it

He knows he writes poems

He knows he loves classical rock but can’t help singing along to Taylor Swift

He knows his eyes are as green as a rain forest

He knows his dimples whenever he smiles, which is rare

He knows the corners of his eyes crinkle and his nose scrunches when he laughs

He knows he blushes easily

He knows he’s almost always cold but he’s never dressed warm enough

He knows he’s gay

He knows he forgets to eat

He knows his balcony is special to him, He knows it’s his sanctuary

He knows he likes cake but rarely gets any because he won’t be able to eat a whole cake by himself

He knows he has a few tattoos And he saw some   

He knows Harry is depressed and refuses to take his medication

Most importantly, he knows Harry is absolutely lovely and he deserves the world.

 

Louis also knows he’s completely gone for the boy. He’s the only thing Louis writes about these days.

 

 

II.

1am.

Louis has been sat still for an hour. And Harry has been crying for an hour.

He feels bad for listening to him cry. But he can’t bring himself to go inside and leave him completely alone but he knows he should. Harry will want to be alone.

 

One muffled word followed by a sob and Louis is a man on a mission.

He gets up, tea sloshing around in his cup, and walks in the direction of Harry’s balcony

He reaches over and pulls back the curtain

The plan was to talk to Harry, But seeing him like this, Curled up around himself, shaking…

Louis finds himself standing between two balconies on the fourth floor

Just as he was about to question his sanity Harry’s voice reminds him of why he’s endangering his life

“Lou.”

He wasn’t looking up. He was still curled around himself, his face hidden in his arms.

Louis jumps into Harry’s balcony, Into Harry’s space.

He tip-toes across, trying not to step on the papers on the floor, and sits on the futon behind Harry. A tight fit but it works.

He pulls the boy’s body towards his.

He holds him as close as possible. It doesn’t help. he’s still shaking. Sobbing.

“Hazza. Harry. Love”

Harry turned over, burying his face in Louis’ chest. Curling his arms against his own.

“shhh. You’re okay, love. Just take a deep breath, babe.”

 

 

III.

2am.

Harry feels drained. He cannot understand how he still has any tears left.

He can breathe now without sobbing.

Louis is running his fingers through his hair.

Harry is embarrassed. He got snot all over Louis’ shirt. He made Louis feel obliged to be here with him.

“Louis.”

“Harry?”

“I’m sorry.”

Louis fingers stop.

“what for, love?”

Harry sighed.

“your shirt. You having to jump across. You being here with me instead of-“

“Shush. If you’re gonna be speaking nonsense I’ll have to only play Barbie girl forever.”

“…I like that song though..”

“not when you have to listen to it forever you won’t”

“good point.” Harry shrugs “I’m still sorry.”

Louis tugs at a strand of Harry’s hair “if anyone should be sorry, love, it’d be me”

Harry looks up with a frown

“I invaded your space uninvited. I’m sorry.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, He just burrows himself back into Louis’ shirt.

  

 

 

5am

Louis thought his phone was vibrating. He moves his arm to find it but he finds hair instead.

Hair? What the hell?

He opens his eyes to find that he’s outside…

Oh.

Harry.

They must have fallen asleep at some point.

The vibrations turn out to be Harry shivering. He must be freezing in his stupid wide knit jumper.

Forcing himself to do the right thing Louis shakes Harry gently.

“wake up, darling, you’ll freeze to death if we stay out any longer”

Harry sighs

“what if I want to die?”

“do you want to die?”

“more often than not.”

“you’d leave me behind?”

“I cannot kill you, Lou.”

“but you can kill yourself?”

“you have classes in a few hours. It’s Wednesday.”

Louis wants to ask. But he knows better than to actually say anything.

“ugh. I hate Wednesdays.”

They shuffle around and Harry waits for Louis to be safely on his side before climbing inside. He can’t help thinking about how his jumper smells like Louis now.  

 

 

 

 

Three.

I.

10pm

Harry was laying on his back, his legs propped against the backrest of the futon/the railing.

He was reading through some of his notes, enjoying his Cinnamon Apple candle and his surprisingly still warm tea.

“psst.”

Harry can’t help but ~~fondly~~ roll his eyes. He didn’t reply.

“Styles!” Louis whisper-shouts from behind the curtain.

Harry wants to smile.

“I know you’re there, Harold! I can smell your stupid candle all the way from the building’s entrance!”

Silence.

“I have something for you, love.” Louis’ stops the ridiculous whisper-shouting. “I’ll be here. Feel better, sweetcheeks.”

Harry actually smiles this time, a genuine smile that warms his cheeks. Louis’ loveliness was beyond anything he’s ever seen before.

A lot of things Louis are beyond Harry.

Like the many shades of his eyes and the way he fixes his fringe, Or the gentle way he handles his guitar.

As if on cue, Louis starts playing. A song Harry never heard before.

Harry stands up, walks to the other side and pulls back the curtain slowly.

Leaning against the railing, he makes eye contact with Louis, making him smile softly.

“Hey” Harry gives a small wave.

“Hi.”

Harry tilts his head, nodding once at the guitar.

Louis shakes his head “no title, yet”

“original?” Harry’s eyes widen. Louis doesn’t play his originals to Harry. Ever. he let him read some lyrics a couple of time. But he never played any.

Louis’ songs were like Harry’s drawings. The only difference is that Louis’ aren’t ugly. At least not from what Harry read.

Nodding, Louis stops playing and reaches for the closed notebook in front of him. he gets up and hands it to Harry.

“the one with the green bookmark”

Opening the notebook Harry takes a step back, not wanting to drop it or any of the small notes on paper scraps that he knows Louis keeps inside.

 

He opens the marked page and finds a punch of scratched out sentences.

Multiple lines covered up with black markers. others were scratched over with the same ink they were written with.

He can swear one of the scratched over words is his name but that must be wishful thinking.

There were a few doodles. A teacup and a cupcake…he thinks.

There are also a few highlighted words

While Harry reads through, Louis starts playing again.

“it needs a chorus.”

“no bridge?”

“there’s no need for a bridge. Can make it with a small jump.”

“Wha..?”

Louis chuckles, “you’ll get it one day, love”

Harry frowns. He doesn’t like not knowing things.

“Lou?”

“yes, love?”

“sing for me?”

Louis stops playing. He sighs.

“anything you want, Harry” he smiles at him, making Harry blush.

Harry never understood how Louis can say such ridiculous things and sound so genuine.

Louis clears his throat, “this one is a bit of a classic so appreciate it.”

Harry nods.

Clearing his throat again-

_“It’s fun to run, it’s fun to play, it’s fun to make things out of clay! It’s fun to fill your car with gas, it’s fun to break things made of glass!!!”_

“oh my god what kind of song is this!”

_“I like nice girls with gum disease I like to tickle people’s knees, don’t tell me no just tell me yes and then we’ll break things made of glass!!”_

“Stop oh god it just gets worse!!”

_“sometimes I put on special pants and I board a plane to France, when I arrive I start to dance and then I break things made of glass!!”_

“dance doesn’-“

**_“yeah I know that dance doesn’t rhyme with glass. So? Whatcha gone do ‘bout it hah?”_ **

“Jesus Christ”

_“but broken glass will tell you lies, bleed your soul and blind your eyes, like a demon with a side of fries”_

“this just keeps getting darker”

_“you better beware, of broken glass of broken glass!”_

_“mmm children that glass sure does look delicious doesn’t it! But you can’t eat it!”_

“why not?”

**_“cause broke glass is not a food so don’t you listen to some dude who says put cheese on broken glass and make a sand-a-which out of broken glass. Of broken glass!!”_ **

Louis finishes the song. And with a very serious expression turns to Harry’s grinning face. “there is no song that can surpass this song we sing, about broken glass.”

Harry loses it completely. He slumps against the railing and starts cackling like maniac. Louis has seen him laugh before, but never this hard.

 

 

II.

11:30pm

Both of them went back to their own devices after Louis’ performance.

Harry sat on his futon, sketchbook in his lap. While Louis sat fiddling with his guitar and jotting things down in his notebook every once in a while.

 

“Hey, Lou?”

Louis wrote something down before looking at Harry through the metal bars of both their balconies. “yes, darling.”

Harry doesn’t blush whenever Louis calls him darling. He does not.

“when you came out tonight, you said you had something for me?”

Louis’ eyes widen.

“Oh yeah!! I forgot about that, Wait gimmie a sec.” He puts his guitar down and gets up.

He opens his window and climbs inside.

A couple of minutes later something is thrown onto the table and after that Louis comes out, ass first.

Harry doesn’t stare.

Louis comes out with a cardboard yellow box.

He sets it on the table and moves the notebook and papers away

“come.”

Harry gets up and walks towards Louis’ side

“I went to the bakery today. Luke wanted to surprise one of his students with a bday party and forgot to pick up the cupcakes.”

He balances the box on the railing

“I saw this, and the color reminded me of you. So with my barely there self-control, I bought it”

He opens the lid to reveal a round cake, covered in pastel green icing.

“you bought me a cake?” he asks.

“yep. You said you like cake. This is chocolate by the way”

“you bought me a chocolate cake.” Harry smiles a little.

His eyes are welling up. He feels like a child.

Because Louis bought him a cake. A chocolate cake covered in pastel green icing because the color made him think of Harry.

He sniffles, trying not to cry “thank you, Louis.”

“anytime, love.” Louis’ eyes crinkles when he smiles up at Harry “now, wanna jump in here?”

Harry looks down, four floors aren’t high enough to kill him. unless he falls on his neck.

“or you can take it and throw the crumps at me?”

The image on Louis trying to catch cake bits out of the air makes Harry snort.

“I can jump in.” Harry goes back to the futon and grabs his sketchbook and a pencil.

“wait a mo’ then”

Louis sets the cake box on the table and comes back, hand outstretched

“here. I won’t let you fall.”

Harry thinks Louis was being cheeky, until he looks up from the empty space between their balconies and saw the look on his face.

“I know.”

 

 

III.

2:30am

Harry is curled up in one of Louis’ chairs, sketchbook in his lap.

Louis went back to fiddling with his guitar, legs stretched on the table, next to the now half empty box of cake.

“whatcha drawing?” Louis asks

“It’s not done yet.” Harry glances at him for a second.

Louis raises an eyebrow “you’ll show me after?”

Harry’s pencil stills.

“if you sing to me. A real song this time.”

Louis smiles

“okay. Show me and I’ll sing you something.”

 

 

\I Wanna Be Yours\

4am.

“I’m done.”

Louis looks up from his lyrics.

Harry seems unsure.

“you don’t really have to show me, if you don’t want to”

“I want to. It’s just. Never mind.” He hands Louis the sketchbook.

 

Louis didn’t have any expectations. He saw the ‘ugly’ drawings scattered all over Harry’s balcony floor. he knows he’s good. But he didn’t have any real expectations.

 

“it’s…me.”

It’s drawing of him, hunched over his guitar, sweats tucked inside his socks and everything.

Harry sounds sheepish “..yeah”

Louis hums

“it’s beautiful, Haz”

_Of course it is, it’s you._ “thank you.”

 

Louis puts the sketchbook on the table.

“alright Mr.Styles, any requests?”

Harry seems to think for a bit

“Arctic Monkeys?”

Competing with Alex Turner. Is added to Louis list of /Things I do for Harry Styles/

Louis fiddles his with his strings a bit.

“okay. I can do Arctic Monkeys. But you must know that I’m not nearly as good as Alex Turner.”

“I don’t care.”

Louis starts playing. Harry knows the song.

 

 

5am.

Louis helps Harry cross back to his own balcony, watches him pack his things.

He expects Harry to open his sketchbook and drop the newest sketch on the floor with the rest of the ‘After’s.

But he doesn’t.

He does open the notebook, looks at it then at Louis.

“Good night, Lou” he smiles.

“Sweet dreams, Hazza”

***

 

 

 

Four.

 

I.

1am

Louis climbs out of his window, hugging three bags of Haribo and four beers. He’s silently praying he doesn’t drop anything since he’s barefoot.

“Hazza?” he calls out, the curtain is only half-way closed, so he can see the arch of Harry’s hunched back but nothing else.

He can still smell his cotton candy candle though, So he knows he’s out there.

“Harold? I know you’re out here, you can’t ignore me forever, kinda know where you live, babe” Louis chuckles at his own joke.

_“I know you know I’m here. And I’m not ignoring you, I just can’t get to the door-curtain at the moment”_ Harry replies from behind the curtain.

“Mind if I get it then?”

_“go crazy.”_

Louis pulls back the curtain and is finally able to actually see Harry. And Harry is a sight for sore eyes.

He’s dressed in a lavender jumper, hair parted into two braids, he was hunched over painting his toes, he isn’t...

“Harry it’s November! Where the fuck are your fucking trousers?” Louis squeaks.

Harry just shrugs.

“Seriously? Use your words, Harold.”

Louis can see Harry’s eyeroll all the way from here.

He says “Louis, dearest, my trousers are right there, next to Niall on the floor.” he points towards the painting on the floor.

Louis is not amused. “why are they on the floor and not on you, Harry, loviest?”

Harry smiles “is ‘loviest’ even a word?”

“don’t change the subject”

“ugh.”

“don’t ugh me.”

“I ugh whomever I want, whenever I want. Why are you being such a mother?”

“because I wove you and I don’t want you to catch hypothermia,”

Harry capped his nail polish, it matches his jumper in color.

“I have a routine,”

“does it involve that bottle of lotion there? Cause I can lend you a hand” Louis wiggles his eyebrows

Harry chuckles “it does actually. And no, you may keep your hands to yourself, thank you very much.”

Louis pulls his chair closer to the ‘edge’, as they call it now, grabs a bag of jelly cola off the table and opens it.

Harry pushes himself forward and pulls a small basket closer to himself, he pulls out three bottles of nail polish, (blue, peach pink and silver) and holds them up to Louis “which one?”

“blue.”

Harry hums and puts the other two back in the basket.

“because it matches your eyes?” Harry asks as he starts painting his thumb.

“No,” Louis smirks “because it matches your pants..ies. is that _lace_?”

Harry blushes.

“I can report you. Invading on my privacy like this."

Louis throws a jelly cola at him.

“I can report you as well. Indecent public exposure or whatever.”

Harry is very amused. He picks it up and throws it in the air and catches it in his mouth.

“you’re good at that.”

“Gemma and I used to spend hours practicing after.”

Louis hums, content with watching Harry paint his nails in his big jumper and public indecency.

“catch”

A jelly cola hits Harry in the face just as he lifted his head.

“can we wait til I’m done with my nails? I don’t feel like redoing them”

Louis throws another one, this time hitting Harry’s head “sure, darling”

“want a beer?” Louis asks.

“sure”

Louis gets up, grabs two beers and the bag of candy.

He throws the bags into Harry’s balcony.

“don’t even think about throwing the beer, Lewis, or so god help me I’m throwing myself off this balcony.”

“you and your suicidal excuses.” Louis mumbles.

 

 

Harry looks up after a couple of minutes to find Louis in a rather dangerous position.

He has one leg on Harry’s floor and both his arms on Harry’s side of the ’edge’…his other leg on his own balcony.

“I thought I’m the one with the suicidal tendencies”

He smiles sourly at Harry, who simply stares at him.

“you know, I should just take a picture of you, and let your ass drop down these four floors. And when I take you to the hospital I’ll make sure every single person in there knows exactly how you fell.”

“for god’s sake, I thought I can make it.”  

Harry puts down his nail polish and gets up “sigh. What would you do without me?”

“fall to my death?”

Harry takes the beers out of Louis’ hands, careful not smudge his nails.

Louis uses his now free hands and climbs onto Harry’s balcony.

Harry sits back in the same position as before, Louis walks over and nudges Harry’s leg with his foot “may I have a seat, sweets?”

He looks up at Louis through his lashes, top coat bottle in hand. He lifts his legs up, knees almost touching his face.

Louis wolf-whistles.

“flexible.” He sits down, Harry drops his legs forcefully in his lap.

“yoga.” Harry’s smug reply nearly inaudible under Louis’ “oomnff”

Louis slaps his hand on Harry’s bare thigh. 

Harry drops the bottle.

And moans.

He covers his face with his hands while Louis screws his eyes shut.

Neither of them daring to move an inch. Not even when they hear the small glass bottle hit the pavement.

Each of them drowning in his own embarrassment.

  

Louis coughs, “forgot you’re not wearing any trousers.”

Harry moves his hands a bit so he can speak clearly “so did I.”

They still don’t move.

“uhm. L-lou…”

“yeah?”

“y-your hand is still- c-could you um, please?” Harry squeaks.

Louis removes his hand, keeping it up in the air. “whoopsy”

Harry slowly removes his hands, face beet red, he looks down through the rails, “that was my favorite top coat…”

 

 

 

II.

3am

Louis thought watching Harry paint his nails was torture, but it turned out not as torturous as watching him wrap his lips around a beer bottle, which turned out to be not as torturous as watching him lotion his legs. While they were still in Louis’ fucking lap.

He cannot believe that watching Harry try to catch gummy candy (and succeed) tops the list.

Maybe it’s the dimples that appear every time he catches one.

 

Harry yawns, “Lou~, I’m sleepy.”

He leans closer to Harry’s face.

Harry doesn’t move.

He leans closer.

Their noses touch.

Louis kisses Harry’s forehead.

“Sleep tight, love.”

***

 


	2. Chapter 2

Five.

 

I.

11pm.

Harry lifts his head when he hears Louis’ window open.

He watches him step down, bring out his guitar and his pack of cigarettes.

Louis is mildly surprised when he sees Harry. Not because he wasn’t expecting him, rather because Harry was hugging his side of the ‘edge’, his knees to his chest and looking at him blankly.

“Hiya.” He says, walking towards Harry and mirroring his position, two rows of metal bars and less than a meter of air between them.

“hey.”

“whatcha doin’?”

Harry is silent for a bit.

He looks down at the space between them “waiting.” He leaves the ‘For you’ unsaid. If Louis doesn’t figure it out...well.

“for how long?”

“five pm.”

Louis’ eyes widen. He knows Harry’s classes end at 4pm on Fridays “why?’

Harry looks up, finds Louis looking at him, “didn’t want to stay alone.”

Louis wants to say it.

To tell him he could have climbed across and called him out. He could have knocked on Louis’ door.

But he doesn’t.

“alright then. Get your cute bum up and over here.”

 

 

II.

11:30pm.

Harry watches Louis step out, again.

He’s holding two mugs, a bundle of clothes scrunched up under his arm.

He hands Harry a mug, and puts the other mug on the table after throwing the clothes on the chair next to Harry’s.

Harry sips from the cup, hot chocolate. Really hot, actually.

Louis sits on the table in front of Harry,

“excuse me, your majesty,” he places his hand on Harry’s right leg, making him raise an eyebrow.

Louis just smiles at him, he grabs something from the small mountain of clothes.

Socks. fuzzy yellow socks.

He puts the socks on Harry’s feet, over his ankle socks.

He then grabs a grey hoodie, takes the cup out of Harry’s hand and slips the hoodie over his head, guides his arms into the holes.

Grabbing a wool shawl and lays it over Harry’s legs.

Louis gets up, hands Harry his mug and pulls the other chair as close to Harry’s as possible.

He sits down, wraps his arms around Harry’s shoulders.

“sorry I let you wait, Haz.”

Harry shrugs.

“waiting out for someone, is better than- “, he sighs “Lou, you know I uh, used to hurt myself…right”

Louis’ hold tightens “I suspected…but I didn’t know.”

“well. I also tried to kill myself once but stuff happened, not the point”

Louis is slightly alarmed, he knew Harry is more than slightly suicidal, but the idea of him actually trying is too scary.

“the point is, waiting out, is better than being stupid”

Louis hums, pulling Harry’s head into his chest, “thank you.”

Harry shrugs again, burrowing his head more into Louis’ chest, wishing he could crawl inside his chest and hide between his ribs.

 

 

III. \Bridge Over Troubled Water/

1am.

Harry can feel the music through Louis’ shoulder. He doesn’t understand how Louis can play the guitar with Harry’s head resting heavily on his shoulder.

He thinks he has a good seat, he’s wrapped up in Louis’ warm clothes, stomach full of Louis’ cocoa. The view isn’t too bad.

He watches Louis play, hum the words softly, his cigarette casting an almost invisible glow to his features.

Harry reaches over and plucks it out of Louis’ mouth, he stops playing.

eyebrows quirked, he watches Harry put the cigarette between his own lips, he doesn’t take a drag, he just leaves it there.

“it’s not gonna work itself, you know” Louis says “you gotta suck it”

Harry smiles, takes a small drag, Louis waits for a few coughs to come. It doesn’t.

“That’s what he said.” He says, cigarette still between his lips.

Louis chuckles.

Harry takes another drag, this one deeper, Louis watches his cheeks hollow and his lips pucker.

Again, he waits for the cough.

Nothing.

“I thought you hated smoking?”

“I do.” Harry takes the cigarette out of his mouth, leans towards the table and puts it out. “used to smoke back in high school. Just for the sake of it. Can’t stand the taste of it.”

He snuggled back into Louis, “my mum and Gemma used to think I did it to rebel. Niall and the psych people think I did it to self-destruct”

He looks up at Louis, “but it’s neither, when I felt like rebelling, I’d sneak some of my mum’s wine and watch room-coms.”

“and my self-destruct methods are much quicker than smoking”

Louis starts playing again “are?”

“are.”

Louis hums “why would you destroy yourself-“ Harry groans “let me finish. Why destroy yourself when you can destroy other people?”

Harry laughs

“are you trying to turn me into a serial killer, Tomlinson?”

“sure, why not? You can be the Bonnie to my Clyde, the Dean to my Sam, no wait they're brothers ew, you can be the Dean to my Cas!!”

Harry laughs again.

“and you can kiss my ass”

Louis wiggles his eyebrows

“Louis. No. you’re not going to write a song about Dean and Cas and eating ass”

It’s too late, Louis started trying different chords to find one that works.

“I am not writing a song about Dean and Cas and eating ass.” Louis stops playing and wraps an arms around Harry’s shoulder, pulling him impossibly close and rubbing their cheeks together “we are writing a song about Dean and Cas and eating ass!”

Harry groans and pulls away.

Only to grab Louis’ music notebook.

“let’s get this over with then, Lewis.”

 

3am.

Harry leaned against the ‘edge’, his back to his own balcony.

He has an exam he has yet to study for tomorrow morning, but he’s stalling. He doesn’t want to leave Louis, yet.

Louis walks up to him “make sure to get some sleep,” he basically whispers.

“you too, better not waste your life watching Uncle Grandpa.”

“excuse me, we discussed this, He's funny.”

“you’re a child.”

“I’m older than you.”

 

they're both silent for a few minutes

 

Louis’ hands were resting on the railing, next to Harry’s. he’d feel caged and invaded if it were anyone else.

“Lou…”

“yes, Harry?”

“kiss me?”

 

***

 

 

Six.

 

 

I.

1am.

Harry climbs out again with a Bath and Body Works bag in hand.

“went candle shopping again? Haven’t you got like six shelves of these?”

Harry shrugs, handing him the bag across the ‘edge’.

Louis pulls out a dark 3 wicked candle with the word ‘HORAAY!’ on it.

“it’s ‘Pink Apple Punch’” Harry fights back a smile.

“let me guess, it made you think of a guy punching apples and yelling horaay?”

“nah, made me think about apples punching each other,” Harry leans onto his ‘edge’, and watches Louis put the candle on his table and attempt to light it with his cigarette.

“that's not efficient, love. We already tried more than once.”

Louis gives up and lights it with the lighter. He looks at Harry and grins.

“I bet apples apologize to each other during fights.”

Harry laughs

“does that make you an apple, Lewis?”

“excuse you, Harold, I apologize after.”

 

 

II.

3am.

“Haz?”

Harry looks up from his sketchbook. “ya?”

Louis walks to the ‘edge’ “I’m getting in. got an early as fuck class tomorrow.”

“okay. Good night.” Harry goes back to his doodles.

Louis clears his throat.

Nothing.

He clears his throat again.

Harry looks up. Louis stares expectantly at him. Harry is blank.

“what”

Louis just keeps staring.

“Are you possessed or something.”

Louis stares some more.

“what the fuck, stop!”

Harry gets up and grabs something from under his futon.

He walks up to the ‘edge’ and pours water on Louis.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL HARRY!”

Harry shrugs. “I had a chance to finally use it so, I went for it.”

“what even is this? It’s cold as fuck,”

Harry throws the small plastic bottle behind his back.

“holy water” he smiles.

Louis is not amused.

“why am I not surprised?”

Harry leans against his ‘edge’, “‘cause you probably thought about it yourself, but felt too awkward getting some from the church and too freaky googling how to do it yourself?”

Louis hums “true. Good thing you didn’t come at me w a silver blade or something”

“I had one!” Louis raises his eyebrow “but mum took it away from me, was worried it’ll tempt me or summat” he shrugs.

“how’s a silver knife different from any other knife?”

“other than the fact that it’s silver, nothing, I don’t think,”

“how do you check for werewolves, shapeshifters, djinn-“

Before Louis can finish his list, a sharp pain shoots through his face.

It takes him a second to realize that Harry reached across the edge and slapped him.

“did, did you just slap me??”

Harry shrugs, doesn’t even try to hide his grin.

“bitch, what?”

Harry raises his palm, “you asked how I check,” he waves his fingers “silver rings”

Louis is still, not amused. He takes Harry’s raised hand in his own.

“you’re something else, Harry Edward.”

 

 

“why are you still out, Louis?”

“’cause you haven’t kissed me good night, yet, Harry.”

 

 

Seven.

 

 

0.

7pm.

Harry climbs out with the tea-box in hand.

He walks to the ‘egde’.

Louis wasn’t outside yet.

Oh well.

“Lou?”

nothing.

“Louis.”

“Lewis.”

“Loueeee?”

“LOUIS WILLIAM TOMLINSON FOR GODS SAKE I KNOW YOUR HOME I COULD HEAR YOU SLAM THAT FRONT DOOR AGAIN”

…

“LOUI-“

“JESUS, BOY, QUIT YOUR YELLING!”

“DON’T YOU RAISE YOUR VOICE ON ME TOMLINSON-“

“YOU STARTED THE YELLING STYLES-“

“CAUSE YOUR HOT DAMN ASS WAS TAKING TOO LONG!”

“I’ll let it slide since you said my ass is hot.”

Harry rolls his eyes.

“god, we’re starting with the eye-rolling already?”

Harry throws the tea box at him. it hits him square in the face.

“rude, for one.” Louis picks it up off the floor “oh, this is the kind you told me about, thanks, babe”

Louis walks towards his window.

Harry panics.

“WAIT!”

“why do you keep yelling?”

“I- uh, sorry.” Harry shakes his head “give me that back.” He points to the box.

“what? No. it’s mine, now.”

Harry scoffs.

“I bought it for you, it’s mine!”

“you said it. FOR me. It’s mine.”

“Louis.”

“Harry.”

“don’t be a baby.”

“I’m not a baby. I’m seven.”

“give me the box or no good night kisses.”

Louis gasps.

“you wouldn’t”

Harry just wiggles his eyebrows at him.

Louis rolls his eyes and throws the box back.

“you’re no fun”

“shush, let me talk.”

“I’m all ears, darling.” Louis leans against his ‘edge’ and gives Harry the dopiest smile ever.

Harry blushes.

“uh…I already have the kettle on. So I’ll brew this…okay?”

Louis shrugs. “sure, I want the cute cups with the flowers though.”

Harry tucks a curl behind his ear, “uh, I meant, here, we’ll have the tea, here.”

“oh, okay” Louis moves to climb over the ‘edge’.

“NO!”

Louis flinches. “it’s yelling day. officially.”

Harry sighs, running his hand through his hair.

“I meant, here, in- inside?”

Louis’ eyes widen. “t-through the door?”

Harry looks down, blushing, “yeah, if- if you want?”

“if I want? god- I- sure, just let me grab my guitar.”

The smile he receives is definitely worth a song, or fifteen.

So is the obnoxious cackle when his face collides with the glass of his window.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a second half to this but I'm not sure if I'll post it yet.  
> also the broken glass song IS the one from Victorious...


End file.
